


Work It Out

by faithtastic



Category: Dexter (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-27
Updated: 2010-09-27
Packaged: 2017-10-12 06:01:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/121610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithtastic/pseuds/faithtastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deb and and LaGuerta work out their differences, temporarily. Set during Dexter S2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work It Out

Deb loses herself in pummelling the punch bag with a series of vicious one-two jabs and it takes her a few moments to notice she has an audience.

"I hope that's not me you're visualising," LaGuerta says wryly from the doorway. Aside from Deb, the gym is empty.

Deb takes one last swing before stilling the bag. She pointedly ignores the other woman.

LaGuerta crosses the threshold. "Doakes said you'd be down here."

Exhaling a short burst of air, Deb sets about removing her gloves. "I still have twenty minutes before my break is up."

"That's not - " LaGuerta pauses, smiles faintly and tries a different tack. "I'll admit I've been tough on you, perhaps more so than others but that's only because – Morgan, you're a good cop."

That earns LaGuerta an incredulous stare. "And this is what? My performance review?" Deb looks down at her fingers and flexes them, testing the soreness. "Thanks but, last time I checked, you're not my Lieutenant anymore."

She barges past LaGuerta, almost shoulder-checking the other woman but LaGuerta grabs her by the elbow, stalling her. "That's fortunate for you, Morgan, because I'd be transferring your bony white ass back to Vice for that comment."

They stare each other down for what seems like forever then an inexplicable smirk tugs at LaGuerta's lips and Deb finds herself mirroring it. They stand there, firmly inside each others personal space but neither seems inclined to move.

Deb becomes acutely aware of the ripe scent of her underarms, of the tendrils of hair sticking to the nape of her neck and finally she makes to leave but LaGuerta's still clutching her arm.

"You've shown initiative and your methods, while unconventional, have reaped results. You're liked and respected by your colleagues. Overall – "

LaGuerta's words are cut short by Deb's mouth abruptly covering hers. For the briefest of seconds Deb hovers on the precipice of uncertainty as she waits for the other woman to respond. When she feels LaGuerta's lips shift and open against her own, relief floods through her.

A noise from the corridor causes the kiss to come to a premature end. LaGuerta immediately composes herself, looking completely unfazed. Deb is pretty sure that's not what she's projecting herself.

"As I was saying," LaGuerta continues smoothly as a uniformed officer enters, acknowledges them with a nod and heads for the locker room. "Just for the record, in my final report I rated your overall performance as exceptional." Before Deb can voice her amazement, LaGuerta lowers her voice and leans in. "Third floor bathroom, fifteen minutes. I suggest you forego underwear."

***

LaGuerta is leaning against the counter where the sinks are, arms folded and looking displeased at having been made to wait an additional two minutes (by Deb's watch).

"Sorry, the elevator was - " Deb starts to explain but stops short when LaGuerta backs her against the door and reaches behind her to flick the lock.

Dark eyes roam up Deb's lanky frame then settle on her mouth. Deb swallows, her throat gone dry. Although she's a few inches taller than LaGuerta, the other woman more than makes up for it with her sheer presence and, in such close proximity, Deb is floundering.

LaGuerta steps away, giving Deb some room to breathe. She uses the opportunity to suck in a lungful of air, which she expels slowly as she tries to get her nerves under control.

LaGuerta returns to her position at the sinks and observes Deb, head tilted to the side. "Come here," LaGuerta says. She sounds confident, in control, and Deb wishes she could borrow some of that for herself.

She doesn't want LaGuerta to see how out of her depth she is, so she assumes a cocky swagger as she approaches the other woman. Of course, judging by the slight smirk on her face, LaGuerta isn't fooled. It's like she has this uncanny ability to see through Deb – always has – and Deb never truly understood the concept of 'damning with faint praise' until she started working in the Homicide bullpen. Maria LaGuerta makes it look like a goddamn art form. No matter what Deb does, LaGuerta always makes her feel inadequate. Not that Deb seeks this woman's approval – no fucking way.

Deb holds herself still in front of LaGuerta, shoulders squared and chin defiant.

It's LaGuerta who makes the next move, manoeuvring them around so that the hard edge of the counter digs into Deb's buttocks. The discomfort hardly seems to matter because LaGuerta's kissing her thoroughly, arms braced on either side of Deb's waist, trapping her in place.

After a minute or two LaGuerta urges Deb back until she's forced to sit on the counter and LaGuerta pushes her way between Deb's legs. One hand comes to the apex of Deb's thighs, rubbing at the warmth there and, _fuck_ , this is happening too quickly but Deb does nothing to stop it. Instead she just whimpers and LaGuerta uses the opportunity to sweep her tongue inside Deb's mouth to coil against her own.

Somehow her hands find their way to LaGuerta's breasts, which makes the other woman press her fingers more firmly against Deb's crotch. Deb rubs and kneads at LaGuerta through the fabric of her shirt. As someone who's been unhappily flat-chested all her life, touching LaGuerta's full breasts is like a fucking revelation. Not that Deb has much time to savour it because LaGuerta's fingers soon find the zipper of her pants and delve inside, sliding immediately into wetness. (Deb took on board the no-panties suggestion).

A small gasp escapes LaGuerta's lips as she probes the damp heat between Deb's thighs and Deb's hips jerk involuntarily at the sound.

"Please," Deb says, pressing forward, attempting to direct LaGuerta's movements and shoving any residual self-consciousness to the back of her mind. There will be time later to be mortified about how needy she sounds but right now she just wants LaGuerta's fingers inside her.

And the other woman obliges, pushing one finger into her slick cunt then quickly adding a second. Deb's aware of her desperately thrusting hips as she chases the motion of the other woman's hand as it moves in and out of her but she's beyond caring because, Jesus Christ, she's embarrassingly close to coming already.

LaGuerta's other hand latches onto Deb's neck, tangling in hair still damp from her rushed shower. That hand and the mouth locked against her own seem to be the only things keeping Deb held up because her entire body feels like molten liquid.

When Deb does come, she tips her head back suddenly, smacking her skull against the mirror and the throbbing pain of the blow matches the insistent pulse of her clit. LaGuerta's fingers twist inside her, forcing a second orgasm in quick succession and it almost makes her body jacknife. Her hands clutch at LaGuerta's shoulders as she rides out the aftershocks until finally she slumps against the other woman.

Slowly LaGuerta withdraws her fingers and Deb pushes off the counter onto wobbly legs. She fastens her pants and bites her lip, unsure what to say as she watches LaGuerta reach for a paper towel from the dispenser to wipe her hand.

The other woman glances over at Deb with a look that says: _why are you still here?_ "Fix your hair and get back to work, Morgan." She checks her watch. "Your break was over five minutes ago."

A frown settles on Deb's lips and she folds her arms across her chest. Jesus, why did she think this would change anything? LaGuerta's still a total bitch - a bitch who now knows what Deb sounds like when she comes. "Fuck you."

"Maybe next time," LaGuerta says idly, looking at her reflection in the mirror and adjusting her clothes. She brushes past, unlocks the door, and walks out leaving a fuming Deb in her wake.


End file.
